Yesterday was my 34th birthday, and I spent it much like we’ve been spending all of our days in the last five weeks, stumbling around in a sleep-derived haze of who are you? Where am I? What’s my name again? I mean, we’ve sort of got a rhythm going, one where the drummer and guitarist are playing two different songs, and the lead singer is just making up words as it goes along, and the sound is just awful but we’re calling it “art.”

Marlo is being fairly cooperative in the sense that she’s sleeping through the night, meaning she wakes up to eat a couple of times and goes right back to sleep after a few minutes on the boob. I know that casually saying the phrase “on the boob” may be insensitive to a certain fraction of my readers who would rather not have to hear about such details concerning life with a newborn, so to make up for that I won’t tell you about how a chunk of her neon yellow poop squirted out of her diaper onto my shirt this morning, and instead of jumping up to clean up the mess I sort of sat there admiring the shape and texture of it, wondering aloud if it was a raisin? Maybe a kernel of corn?

So you’d think we’d be getting a fair amount of sleep, except she is such a loud sleeper, just like Leta was. She grunts and moans and growls, so half the time we don’t know if she’s awake and upset or if she’s having a nightmare about that one time she came shooting out of a vagina. I mean loud. Really loud. Like we’re sleeping with our heads right next to a dryer that’s rolling around a pair of tennis shoes, a wad of coins, and a hammer.

Anyway, my birthday. Right. That’s where I was going with this. I got an early birthday present last week when it was announced that I was among the 30 honorees on the Forbes list of “The Most Influential Women In Media” for 2009. Um. Yeah. So. Soooooo. Let’s just twirl this around in our brains for a second so that you can see why BATSHIT INSANE was my first coherent response to such news.

You’ve got Oprah Winfrey at the top of the list, and then it goes on to Diane Sawyer and Barbara Walters, and others like Ann Curry and Katie Couric and Martha Stewart and Lesley Stahl, and everything is fine until you get to number twenty-six, Heather B. Armstrong, and it’s like the list suddenly falls off the edge of the earth. Heather who? Heather what? Who is this woman? And I can just imagine the usual buttoned-up, proper reader of Forbes wandering over here, reading a couple of lines and thinking HAS FORBES LOST ITS MIND. And my every inclination is to post my father’s phone number right here so that they can call him and commiserate.

My mother, obviously, was over the moon when I told her the news, but my dad’s first response was, “Is Ann Coulter on the list? Where are the conservatives?!” and I had to spend the next hour convincing him that the list wasn’t some vast liberal conspiracy. Meaning it was exactly like every single phone call I’ve ever had with him. HA! HA! I’m only kidding. A little bit. Related: Marlo looks just like my father, and the other morning she was making this really angry face, and Jon looked at her and goes, “What’s wrong, Mike Hamilton? Are you still upset about Obama?”

So, yeah. I’m number 26. Twenty-six. Which of course blows my mind, and for a few days in my sleep-dreived haze I would look at Jon every few minutes and go twenty-six? For real? And then we’d high-five each other and go, “Twenty-six!” I mean, ridiculous. That’s exactly what it is. Absurd. But that did not stop me from reminding Marlo about it every time I changed her diaper. I was all, DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM, KID? YOU’VE GOT NUMBER TWENTY-SIX WIPING YOUR BUTT.

Yesterday morning I was still kind of high on the news of it, that combined with the fact that it was my birthday, so I woke up in a really great mood. Marlo slept in a little later than usual, and Leta played quietly by herself in her room until she heard us rousing. We all four then spent the next half hour in bed making faces and singing and tickling and living a page right out of Good Housekeeping, and right before we all skipped merrily upstairs to have breakfast I hopped over to let Coco out of her crate. Only to be hit in the face with a smell so nauseating that I fell over dead. I died. There was a funeral and elaborate floral displays and my mother threw herself over my casket and yelled, “Twenty-sixxxxxxxx!”

As Coco stepped out of her crate I suddenly realized that she had urinated all over herself, I guess while she was sleeping because she never whined to be let out of the crate LIKE A NORMAL DOG WOULD HAVE. Like a normal dog with a brain. And it’s not just a little bit of urine, it’s like Niagra Falls in that crate, and she is covered head to toe in it. I catch her a little too late, meaning I’m standing there debating over whether or not I care about what it would mean to grab an animal soaked in its own bladder juices or do I mind what those bladder juices are doing to the BRAND NEW CARPET on the floor, and oops, there are fifteen footprints that will remind me forever that once you adopt a Miniature Australian Shepherd you shorten your life by, oh, a good twenty years. Oh, right. I’m already dead. Because of her.

Jon swoops in, grabs her up off the BRAND NEW CARPET, have I mentioned that part? BRAND NEW. It could not be newer, it is so new, the newness is the newest of all new, The Mayor of New, and he runs to the back door, sets her down to open that door, and then realizes his fatal error. Because Coco then seizes that opportunity to shake the piss off of her body. All over the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and of course all over Jon’s body. It was like a Jackson Pollock canvas in that back hallway. If you could have seen it you would have marveled at the color, the scheme, the abstract way the piss splattered and flung through the air. A masterpiece, I tell you.

For the next hour I chased that dog around the backyard in an attempt to douse her with the hose, an instrument she loathes as it contains water — and I don’t know what happened to her in a previous life, maybe water stole her car or called her names or punched her in the face, but Coco reacts to water like someone would react to an intruder with a knife — and since I hadn’t had a chance to put on any clothes, there I am, number twenty-six, an Influential Woman in Media, running madly around my backyard after a dog with no brain, wearing nothing but my panties and a t-shirt covered in milk stains and dog piss. On my birthday.

I’m not going to lie, I stopped several times, hose in one hand, the other hand pointing proudly to the giant milk stain underneath my left boob, and yelled, “Twenty-six, bitches!”

Related:

I usually don’t comment, but when I was reading this, I realized that there were only 26 comments, so it seemed like I should.

Congratulations on both being 26, and also on Marlo’s birth and life!

Anonymous

I hate to sound redundant. But instead of running around screaming “Number 26 bitches!” Screaming “I beat Soledad” is far more awesome! Like many, I remember your interview with her.

You rock! Happy birthday. You have been giving me my daily dooce dose for 7 years now!

All in jest

you know how, in an exorcism, the possessed flinch at water?
cause the devil doesn’t like water
ever wonder about coco?
just sayin’…

http://tiffs-snippet.blogspot.com/ Tiffany

At least it wasn’t poo or vomit…

Kate

Newly pregnant, I think of you often, how alike we are, not that you’d know anything about that, wishing you were really my BFF, and that I could come crawling to you to ask all the questions I have that I wish you could answer, and this was just what I needed: a classic, indooced belly laugh. xo and a happy, happy to you!

RobinM

OMG
I love you.
Grats

Liesel

Only you. Only you could make me laugh so hard right here in my kitchen all by myself while my own no-brained animals bounce themselves off the handle of my back door to be let in. Only you.

And this is exactly why you are 26. You are the Every Woman. You take our lives, paint it in words until we pee our pants laughing, and remind us that WE are NOT ALONE. We may be covered in breast milk, animal excrement, and some part of last night’s dinner that came out of the mouth of our children…BUT, we are not alone.

For you, we are very grateful. Happy Birthday. And congratulations. 26 is proof the world hasn’t gone completely insane.

Indiana Lori

Aggie

I just howled in my ‘office’ and by office, read: cubicle-with-a-sliding-door-but-walls-don’t-go-all-the-way-up-to-the-ceiling-so-people-can-hear-me-howling-to-myself kind of office.

That was such a great post, Heather! Congratulations, number Twenty-effing-six! And Belated Happy Barfday!

1. congrats on 26.
2. why do you keep that damn dog? i don’t know how you do it and then you go and add a newborn to the household! you are definitely number 1 on the I AM CRAZY TO KEEP THIS DAMN DOG list.

You’re hysterical, I love it!! Congrats on the 26!! I read the article and the list, and I think maybe you could’ve been a little higher up!

http://www.rya-west.blogspot.com Heather G

So don’t I feel like an ass. I am actually embarrassed to admit out loud that I emailed you – number 26 on The Most Influential Women in Media as noted by Forbes magazine – to ask if you had any advice on how to make my lame ass mom blog more popular. Hell, I should have just called up Oprah, like “Yo Oprah can you swing by my ranch tract home in Indianapolis to walk me through the fine details on how I can do this whole ‘best life’ thing? Ill make snacks.”

I guess I should have realized that I was reaching when I saw the clips of you on various TELEVISION shows (um Oprah and Today Show) but nope – still typed it up all jolly with emphasis on thoughtfully witty and hit send. It took this to make me realize that I was a tard.

Really though, that’s pretty fucking spectacular and its even better that you follow up the news with vivid details on poop, urine and partially nude dog washing. And that is exactly how you make a mom-blog popular. Congrats.

http://www.thegorenablog.com Stephanie

Not sure if I’ve ever laughed harder. Congrats to #26!!!

http://eviljulie.com Julie

And it’s this kind of post exactly that keeps me coming back for more. Which I guess means that it’s this kind of post that makes you 26, bitches!!!

Oh my god. I have had almost the exact same morning a few months back. But mine was a dog covered in poop. Runny poop. Sadly I am number nothin’. lol

joy

I have been reading your site for over half a decade now and I am thrilled for your success. Congrats!

http://www.popmommy.com Pam

Congrats and Happy Birthday. You are an inspiration to me and a lot of other women blogging out there. Enjoy this amazing time in your life!

http://www.echristopherclark.com E. Christopher Clark

I’m hoping that, by waiting a few extra minutes to comment, I will be number twenty-six.

No? Darn…

Thanks for the awesome story. Wow. That actually kinda turned my day around.

And made me not want to ever own a dog.

Jenny

Many congratulations Heather! You deserve it.

http://hagendaze.blogspot.com/ Carrie

Congratulations! You are hilarious…26 in pee covered shirt and all!

Jennifer

Best. Post. EVER.

http://www.exschutz.blogspot.com ExSchutz

Amazing! Congratulations! You totally deserve it.

JBird

Fantistico! #26 on #34 birthday, you young pup. Dogs, shit, kids, piss, boobs, love it. Thanks for making the mundane seem exhilarating. It certainly makes life more interesting! If only we all had your gift of descriptiveness, our lives may be “happenin’” at best.

JBird

Meg

You really do have a unique voice. No one does it quite like you! I’ve always enjoyed your writing style and think you do an amazing job at this thing called blogging. Congratulations and happy birthday!

Danielle

Ok, so I just laughed so hard, I actually bounced off my stool.

And almost landed on my dog.

Katie

Oh no! I sympathize, despite being a dog trainer and vet tech and KNOWING how stupid I was being, I adopted a border collie puppy while pregnant. I am regretting it. Anyway, just wanted to say that if it happens again you should have her urine checked, fluffy female dogs are prone to bladder infections, a main symptom of which is leaking urine or having accidents.

But before all that laughter/empathy came, I wished you an awesome birthday. And for what it’s worth I think you’re WAY more influential in my life than Oprah or any other woman on that list.

Kudos to you #26.

http://musicgoesforever.blogspot.com Eddie

You rock, Heather!

jo

Congrats!! But seriously, Anne Coulture? Your father doesn’t have hate and bile for this hate and bile filled wing nut?

Liesel

Also, am dying, DYING, for the second half of the birth story. I, who am terrified of anything having to do with Pain, childbirth much included, NEED to read the second half. When you get a chance, of course.

http://www.happinessontap.com Elizabeth_K

Even as the rest of us worship and adore you with no hesitation, Coco is working full time to KEEP IT REAL. You can thank her later (as the rest of us laugh until we gasp …)

http://catutes.blogspot.com Catutes

Awesome birthday present. You most certainly deserve to be on that list.

As for the Coco piss? it could have been dog shit she let loose with and rolled around in as a special birthday present just for you.

I likened myself to you….well except for the liberal nature and the decision to endure natural childbirth….So, Maybe I’ll make it to Forbes one day when I single handedly reform our nation’s health care system or maybe even for my blogging scrumptiousness or for my superwoman skills….Just take your pick

Congrats!

Julie

Happy birthday and congrats on being #26!

Pam

I love it! Thanks for making me smile today.

Congrats on being #26 and getting old along with the rest of us.

Jessica Hayes

Number 26-you are f’in AWESOME! I adore you, your website and your family. I hope that you have already ordered yourself a t-shirt with a giant number 26 on it to wear around town. How do all those dooce hater jackasses feel now hmmmmm? NUMBER 26 you a**holes! Go dooce!!!

It makes me have hope for everything that you are more influential than Ann Coulter. According to Forbes, not Utne Reader or something. That is so good.

Your friend,

Dewey Gigolo (my new capcha tag!)

http://musicgoesforever.blogspot.com Eddie

You rock, Heather!

http://cynthiahee.blogspot.com cynthia

Congratulations Heather! I’m very happy for you, and you totally deserve the number twenty six alright! I’ve been a silent reader all this while, your blog is one of the best I’ve come across. Do keep up the good work!

Congratulations. Personally I think you deserve to be much higher on that list, but 26 is pretty awesome. Good luck with the dog pee clean up. I recall a day shortly after getting my dog that he had diarrhea in his crate overnight. It was a horror.

Danielle

Oh, and commenter #310 (eejm):

I sincerely hope so, dear. ‘Cause the alternative is just too scary to ponder.

Angelina

I nearly peed myself reading this (from laughter). Great story.

http://misstraceynolan.blogspot.com misstraceynolan

Suggestion for the Dooce gift shop:

T-shirt reading “Twenty-six, bitches!” with a faux milk stain under the left boob.

Congrats. You deserve all of the honours they can throw at you!

JC

Hey now….what’s wrong with Forbes? I read it, and I read you too, and shit…you are YOUNGER than I am!!!

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